


One Size Fits All

by MK_Yujji



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Everyone loves Steve, Gen, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-13
Updated: 2012-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-09 21:20:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MK_Yujji/pseuds/MK_Yujji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's wardrobe keeps shrinking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Size Fits All

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in response to the avengerkink prompt: _Steve + Team, shirt stealers. Steve's shirts quickly go missing in the morning after he wears them to bed. He chalks it up to a overachieving cleaning robot of Tony's...but then he's missing five, six, seven, and none of them are coming back from laundry._ I didn't quite follow the prompt, but hey. You can't dictate where they muse goes, right?

Steve frowns as he takes in the familiar white SSR shirt hanging down almost to Pepper's knees in the brief moment before the entire picture catches up with his brain. He blushes and turns around, putting his back to her. "Umm.. Miss Potts.... Why are you wearing my shirt?"

He wants to ask why she isn't wearing more as well, but really, one issue at a time.

"Pepper, Steve. My name is ... well, no. My name isn't actually Pepper, but please. You live here now. You don't have to call me Miss Potts." There's a sound of the coffee pot being jostled and liquid splashing into a cup. A deep swallow and then a soft sigh of contentment. "And I didn't realize it was yours. I just grabbed it from the top of Tony's dresser... I did wonder at the size..."

"Wait, why does Tony-" Steve's gaze swings back around in surprise at the news before he sees a flash of bare thigh and quickly turns away again. He coughs and cracks his neck slightly, trying to will away his blush. "Why does Tony have one of my shirts, Miss P-... Miss Pepper?"

She chuckles and ruffles his hair with an obvious air of 'aren't you adorable?' as she saunters passed back towards her bedroom. "That, you'll have to ask Tony."

~*~*~

The next t-shirt he loses is entirely his own fault. He doesn't so much lose it as give it away.

He'd been at the gym, just preparing for a work out, when the call had come in.

Turns out, the Hulk is much easier to soothe back into Bruce as long as the military stays out of things. A friendly, unafraid face staying calm and not pointing guns at him does wonders.

Bruce murmurs a soft apology as he tries to curl in on himself, blushing as bystanders start to get brave enough to come closer and take a peek at the naked human that's usually only seen masked under the Hulk's rage.

Stripping off his jacket and shirt, Steve hands them over as he frowns at the crowd. People have gotten far bolder in the years that he’d slept under the ice.

"Thanks," Bruce says softly. He pulls the shirt on and ties the jacket around his waist. It's not much, but it protects his modesty.

Especially when all those curious people decide that Steve's bare chest is a much more fascinating thing to look at. It takes an embarrassing amount of time for them to get out of the crowd and back to the Tower after that.

Tony, of course, thinks that having Steve's chest and red face splashed all over the media and internet is hilarious. He collects every single article, news clip, and tumblr image he can find and displays them around the Tower wherever he thinks they'll cause Steve the maximum amount of embarrassment.

There's nothing to do about it until something else snags his interest.

Steve's jacket appears hanging on the door nob of his bedroom a couple of days after the incident, dry clean tag still hanging from the zipper.

He never does get the shirt back.

~*~*~

When he finds Natasha curled on the sofa, staring blankly at the muted television screen one night, he can't bring himself to ask about the fact that she's got her knees tucked up inside a familiar white t-shirt. Given the small patch of blood that now stained the hem, it’s the same shirt he'd worn earlier in the day. There'd been a small accident in the kitchen involving a cheese slicer and Clint.

Most kitchen accidents seem to involve Clint for some reason.

He does wonder, briefly, if he should ask Fury where he can get a few extra packs of his t-shirts to give out as gifts at Christmas, though. Maybe then his already small wardrobe will stop shrinking.

"Can't sleep?" he asks softly, settling onto the sofa next to her.

The pictures on the television screen are black and white, an old movie he recognizes from before. He doesn't think she's actually watching it, though.

She sighs and shifts, leaning into his side. It's only like this, in the dark, quiet hours of the morning, that she lets this vulnerability show. She shrugs. "You know how it is."

He does. They all have demons that stalk their dreams whenever sleep manages to catch up to them. 

Nodding, he snags the remote and turns the volume up just enough that he can hear the familiar words and shifts to drop an arm over Natasha's shoulder. She curls into his side and relaxes.

The movie is over and he's flipping through the channels looking for something else when she finally speaks again. "Is it strange that it makes me feel safe?"

"Hm?" Steve glances down to see that she's plucking at his shirt, pulling at the wings of the SSR logo. He can't help but smile faintly and give her shoulder a light squeeze. "No stranger than anything else that goes on in this Tower."

"Very strange indeed, then." She laughs softly and pulls away, ruffling his hair as she stands. "Goodnight, Steve. Try to get some sleep."

The only times he ever sees the shirt with the small blood stain after that, it's always late at night, in the living room with Natasha's knees tucked up in it.

~*~*~

"Steven?"

Steve looks up at the soft rap on his door to see Thor leaning in with a smile. "Hey, Thor. Didn't realize you were here."

Or even on Earth, for that matter.

The big man smiles and shrugs. "I've only just arrived."

"It's good to see you." He puts his sketchbook down and starts to get up, but Thor speaks again with a shrug.

"I am sorry to intrude on your rest, but my lady Jane has asked me to attend her at a... cinema this evening and she feels that my Asgardian clothing would cause issue." He shrugs a little helplessly. "Anthony offered to take me to a tailor, but... Jane grows impatient and you are the only Avenger of a respectable size. She says a 't-shirt' will suffice."

Steve laughs, shaking his head and goes to his dresser. For a moment, he gazes at the half-empty drawer that had once held half a dozen of the SSR t-shirts S.H.I.E.L.D had kitted him out with. 

"Steven?"

"Sorry, just… thinking." He fishes out the newest looking one and offers it to his friend. "Here ya go."

"Thank you, Steven. Perhaps some day you shall visit my family on Asgard, and I shall be able to return this great favor."

Steve just smiles. "Anytime, Thor."

~*~*~

The next morning, Jane is wearing the shirt at breakfast but Steve doesn't remark on it.

At least she's also wearing sleep pants.

~*~*~

Steve barely has time to get his sketchbook out of the way before he has a lap full of Clint Barton.

He stares down a little bemused and a little alarmed as the man tugs at the hem of his t-shirt.

"Gimme."

"How much have you had to drink?"

He can smell the alcohol, but in this group, that means nothing. He and Bruce avoid anything stronger than tea, but the others have the highest tolerances that he's ever seen - and he'd known Dum Dum Dugan.

He's not sure if Clint is actually drunk or if he's just tipsy enough to think Tony's dares are a good idea. They’re as bad as each other, sometimes.

Clint pouts up at him. "Everyone else has one. I want mine."

Ah.

Huffing in amusement, Steve grabs Clint's hands to still them. "I do have a clean one left. You can have that one."

There's a moment of stillness as the archer considers that, then Clint begins scrabbling for the t-shirt Steve's wearing again. "I want this one."

Steve can't help but laugh. He has some very odd friends.

Warmth flares through his chest as he bats away Clint's hands and pulls the shirt off himself. "There ya go. Now you all have one."

He drops it on Clint's face and slips out from under his friend.

Clint must actually be at least a little drunk because Steve's already managed to gather up his book and pencils by the time the smaller man escapes the fearsome cage of white cotton.

Steve lingers for a moment, watching Clint crow his victory and clutch at the shirt.

He's smiling as he heads back to his room in search of something else to wear.

His friends may be odd, but they're his and he likes them exactly the way they are.

~*~*~

fin


End file.
